Wild (The Ivy Chronicles #3)(17)

Chapter 6

I KNOCKED ONCE ON my advisor’s door before stepping inside. The office smelled like musty books and Taco Bell burritos. A quick glance at the overfull trash bin confirmed that Dr. Chase ate most of his meals there. “You wanted to see me, Dr. Chase?”

He’d written a note on my last paper for me to come see him during his office hours. I’d enjoyed his class this semester. As much as one could enjoy Labor Law and Policy. It just spoke to his teaching ability that he made the course work interesting.

“Yes, have a seat, Georgia.”

I still clutched my paper in my hands.

He came around his desk and sank into the chair opposite mine. He tapped at the paper. “This is good work, Georgia.”

A flush spread through me. “Thank you.”

He crossed his legs, gripping his ankle where it rested on his knee, showing off his plaid socks. “You have a strong control of language. It’s a gift. Half the time when I read an undergrad paper, I feel like I’m wading through a jumble of words to get to the point, but you have a better handle of the material than most graduate students.”

My chest swelled. I wished my mother were here to hear this.

He continued, “What are you doing this summer?”

“I’m going home.”

“And home is . . .”

“Muskogee, Alabama.”

“Hmm. Not a bustling metropolis.”

“No, sir. I’m looking into an internship at a bank—”

“Filing and making coffee.” He shook his head. “It’s a waste of your talents. You’ll learn nothing. One of the grad students I’d hired to assist me on my research this summer had to back out. I have an opening.” His gaze fastened on me, his dark eyes steady through the lenses of his glasses. “It’s a rare opportunity, Georgia. The other two students assisting me are grad students and I still need a third—”

“Yes,” I blurted. He hadn’t even mentioned pay or the research topic, but I didn’t care. This sounded a lot better than going home and working at the bank. And the best thing of all? I could stay here. Mom wouldn’t love the idea, but she would have to acknowledge it as a great opportunity. It was an academic endeavor that actually paid.

“Excellent. Speak with Doris, the department secretary, and she will gather your information. We’ll be in touch regarding our first meeting.” Dr. Chase stood.

I rose, too, grabbing the strap of my messenger bag. I shook his hand, maybe a little too vigorously in my eagerness. “Thank you.”

He smiled, already looking distracted as he dropped my hand. “See you soon.”

As soon as I left his office, I rummaged for my phone and scanned my contacts until I found the person I needed to call. He picked up after the second ring.

“Reece? Hey, it’s Georgia. Did you really mean it when you said I could use your old apartment this summer?”

MOM WASN’T THRILLED.

I’d known that she wouldn’t be, but she actually required more convincing than I expected.

“Maybe I should call this Dr. Chase,” she suggested, “And find out more about the particulars of—”

“Mom, no. What for?” With a deep breath, I softened my voice, “I’m twenty years old and in college. I don’t think he’s accustomed to getting phone calls from parents. This is legit, I promise. I’ll be working with grad students. I’m really lucky to get this chance.”

She sighed, and I knew she was relenting.

“I’m sure I can expect a fabulous recommendation from him for future jobs. And this experience will look great on my resume,” I added, knowing how Mom thought. “Your friend at the bank will be very impressed.”

“Fine.”

A huge smile curved my lips and I danced in place.

“What about housing?” she continued. “Do you even have a place—”

“A friend of mine is moving out of his apartment and is letting me stay there over the summer.”

“Is it a nice place? In a good part of town?”

“Mom. It’s five minutes from campus. It’s great.” Not a lie. Mulvaney’s is right around the corner from campus. I just omitted the part about it being located on top of a bar.

“All right. Georgia. I can see you want this. We were just looking forward to having you home for the summer. We miss you.” At that, guilt stabbed at me. My mother, my family . . . they just loved me. Mom especially. She cared about me. I shouldn’t resent her for it. My mom wasn’t like Pepper’s—a drug addict who’d abandoned her only child. Or Emerson’s mother who was, depending on the day, either cruel or indifferent to her daughter. My mom cared too much. That was her crime.

“Find out the timeline. Maybe you can schedule a trip home before school starts in the fall.”

I nodded, happiness bubbling up inside me. “I will. I’ll let you know.”

I stayed on the phone for a few more minutes, in such a great mood that I even tolerated her sharing all the latest Harris news with me. Apparently Mom had breakfast with his mother at the club last weekend. I didn’t even interrupt when she voiced—again—the inevitability of our getting back together.

Ending the call, I propped my hands on my hips and surveyed my dorm. Suddenly packing wasn’t such a dismal prospect.